The Caged Lion [42]
to her companion, a slender, dark, thoughtful representative of the Goldsmiths' Company, to whom she talked with courtesy such as Malcolm had scorned to show his city dame.
'Who,' said Esclairmonde, presently, 'was a dame in a religious garb whom I marked near the door here? She hooked like one of the Beguines of my own country.'
'We have no such order here, lady,' said the goldsmiths, puzzled.
'Hey, Master Price,' cried Mistress Bolt, speaking across Malcolm, 'I can tell the lady who it was. 'Twas good Sister Avice Rodney, to whom the Lady Mayoress promised some of these curious cooling drinks for the poor shipwright who hath well-nigh cloven off his own foot with his axe.'
'Yea, truly,' returned the goldsmith; 'it must have been one of the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's whom the lady has seen.'
'What order may that be?' asked Esclairmonde. 'I have seen nothing so like my own country since I came hither.'
'That may well be, madam,' said Mistress Belt, 'seeing that these bedeswomen were first instituted by a countrywoman of your own--Queen Philippa, of blessed memory.'
'By your leave, Mistress Bolt,' interposed Master Price, 'the hospital of St. Katharine by the Tower is of far older foundation.'
'By YOUR leave, sir, I know what I say. The hospital was founded I know not when, but these bedeswomen were especially added by the good Queen, by the same token that mine aunt Cis, who was tirewoman to the blessed Lady Joan, was one of the first.'
'How was it? What is their office?' eagerly inquired Esclairmonde. And Mistress Bolt arranged herself for a long discourse.
'Well, fair sirs and sweet lady, though you be younger than I, you have surely heard of the Black Death. Well named was it, for never was pestilence more dire; and the venom was so strong, that the very lips and eyelids grew livid black, and then there was no hope. Little thought of such disease was there, I trow, in kings' houses, and all the fair young lords and ladies, the children of King Edward, as then was, were full of sport and gamesomeness as you see these dukes be now. And never a one was blither than the Lady Joan--she they called Joan of the Tower, being a true Londoner born--bless her! My aunt Cis would talk by the hour of her pretty ways and kindly mirth. But 'twas even as the children have the game in the streets -
"There come three knights all out of Spain, Are come to fetch your daughter Jane."
'Twas for the King of Castille, that same Peter for whom the Black Prince of Wales fought, and of whom such grewsome tales were told. The pretty princess might almost have had a boding what sort of husband they had for her, for she begged and prayed, even on her knees, that her father would leave her; but her sisters were all espoused, and there was no help for it. But, as one comfort to her, my aunt Cis, who had been about her from her cradle, was to go with her; and oft she would tell of the long journey in litters through France, and how welcome were the English tongues they heard again at Bordeaux, and how when poor Lady Joan saw her brother, the Prince, she clung about his neck and sobbed, and how he soothed her, and said she would soon laugh at her own unwillingness to go to her husband. But even then the Black Death was in Bordeaux, and being low and mournful at heart, the sweet maid contracted it, and lay down to die ere she had made two days' journey, and her last words were, "My God hath shown me more pity than father or brother;" and so she died like a lamb, and mine aunt was sent by the Prince to bear home the tidings to the good Queen, who was a woeful woman. And therewith, here was the pestilence in London, raging among the poor creatures that lived in the wharves and on the river bank, in damp and filth, so that whole households lay dead at once, and the contagion, gathering force, spread into the city, and even to the nobles and their ladies. Then my good aunt, having some knowledge of the sickness already, and being without fear, went among the sick, and by her care, and the food, wine, and
'Who,' said Esclairmonde, presently, 'was a dame in a religious garb whom I marked near the door here? She hooked like one of the Beguines of my own country.'
'We have no such order here, lady,' said the goldsmiths, puzzled.
'Hey, Master Price,' cried Mistress Bolt, speaking across Malcolm, 'I can tell the lady who it was. 'Twas good Sister Avice Rodney, to whom the Lady Mayoress promised some of these curious cooling drinks for the poor shipwright who hath well-nigh cloven off his own foot with his axe.'
'Yea, truly,' returned the goldsmith; 'it must have been one of the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's whom the lady has seen.'
'What order may that be?' asked Esclairmonde. 'I have seen nothing so like my own country since I came hither.'
'That may well be, madam,' said Mistress Belt, 'seeing that these bedeswomen were first instituted by a countrywoman of your own--Queen Philippa, of blessed memory.'
'By your leave, Mistress Bolt,' interposed Master Price, 'the hospital of St. Katharine by the Tower is of far older foundation.'
'By YOUR leave, sir, I know what I say. The hospital was founded I know not when, but these bedeswomen were especially added by the good Queen, by the same token that mine aunt Cis, who was tirewoman to the blessed Lady Joan, was one of the first.'
'How was it? What is their office?' eagerly inquired Esclairmonde. And Mistress Bolt arranged herself for a long discourse.
'Well, fair sirs and sweet lady, though you be younger than I, you have surely heard of the Black Death. Well named was it, for never was pestilence more dire; and the venom was so strong, that the very lips and eyelids grew livid black, and then there was no hope. Little thought of such disease was there, I trow, in kings' houses, and all the fair young lords and ladies, the children of King Edward, as then was, were full of sport and gamesomeness as you see these dukes be now. And never a one was blither than the Lady Joan--she they called Joan of the Tower, being a true Londoner born--bless her! My aunt Cis would talk by the hour of her pretty ways and kindly mirth. But 'twas even as the children have the game in the streets -
"There come three knights all out of Spain, Are come to fetch your daughter Jane."
'Twas for the King of Castille, that same Peter for whom the Black Prince of Wales fought, and of whom such grewsome tales were told. The pretty princess might almost have had a boding what sort of husband they had for her, for she begged and prayed, even on her knees, that her father would leave her; but her sisters were all espoused, and there was no help for it. But, as one comfort to her, my aunt Cis, who had been about her from her cradle, was to go with her; and oft she would tell of the long journey in litters through France, and how welcome were the English tongues they heard again at Bordeaux, and how when poor Lady Joan saw her brother, the Prince, she clung about his neck and sobbed, and how he soothed her, and said she would soon laugh at her own unwillingness to go to her husband. But even then the Black Death was in Bordeaux, and being low and mournful at heart, the sweet maid contracted it, and lay down to die ere she had made two days' journey, and her last words were, "My God hath shown me more pity than father or brother;" and so she died like a lamb, and mine aunt was sent by the Prince to bear home the tidings to the good Queen, who was a woeful woman. And therewith, here was the pestilence in London, raging among the poor creatures that lived in the wharves and on the river bank, in damp and filth, so that whole households lay dead at once, and the contagion, gathering force, spread into the city, and even to the nobles and their ladies. Then my good aunt, having some knowledge of the sickness already, and being without fear, went among the sick, and by her care, and the food, wine, and